Swann Songs (The Boston Uncommon Mysteries Book 4) (11 page)

“I`ve been there,” I said. “Didn`t he hear cries for help or sounds of a struggle?”

Pam fiddled with her coffee spoon. “He had earphones on. Apparently Gabriel loves classical music. Says it helps him decompress. He didn`t hear a thing.” She rose, directing her remarks to Deming. “That`s all I know at this point. Keegan is playing it cagey for the time being. He knows he has bupkis against my client.” The poison Pam smile emerged. “If every petty quarrel escalated into murder, Concord University would be a bloodbath. Most of those people loathe each other.”

After she left, Deming and I shared biscotti and a snifter of Armagnac. Gazing at his profile in the candlelight left me boneless, ready to melt. He reached over, grasped my hand, and brushed my fingertips with his lips.

“I meant what I said tonight. We`re a team.”

At first I was overwhelmed, unable to say a word. When the soft strains of Pavarotti wafted through the restaurant I shivered.

“
Passione
,” Deming said. “That`s what he`s singing. Just for you, Eja. That`s how I feel. No one else mattered before or since. Just you.”

“Really?” An inelegant response but all I could muster. Deming was obsessed by opera, but until tonight I had been indifferent. Never again. The fusion of beautiful music and the man I loved stirred me as it climbed inexorably toward the crescendo.

He read in my eyes what my lips did not say. Deming rose and gently helped me to my feet. The touch of his hands electrified me, sending every nerve ending into overdrive.

“Let`s go home, my love. You can tell me all about those plans you made.”

“Are you sure you want to know?”

“Absolutely,” Deming said. “No more secrets. Not between us.”

Chapter Twelve

STRATEGY WAS THE last thing on our minds that night. We lay on the velvet sofa, savoring the feel of skin on skin, unwilling to part for even a moment. Our relationship had soared to new heights, ones I had only dreamed of before.

By the time we slipped into the bedroom, we were stripped of artifice, desperate for the cleansing power of sleep. I curled up in Deming’s arms, oblivious to doubt or fear until Cato’s shrieks awakened me the next morning.

Had I dreamed everything last night, or had Deming agreed to join me on the quest? While he prepared for work, I donned my jogging clothes and harnessed Cato. No sense in spoiling my fantasy by testing reality. I spent the next half hour promenading around the Common, testing theories and suspects. Obviously Sonia was the intended victim all along. She was a complex woman who spawned hostility in plenty of people. Sorrel loved her and Gabriel lusted after her. Fess Paskert had personal and professional reasons to want her dead, as did Melanie Hunt. I had only a superficial knowledge of COWE and the Bella Brigade. Understanding them and their philosophy would require either in-depth study or immersion in CliffsNotes. So many suspects and no concrete motives. Profiling the killer was an easier task. My adversary was intelligent, determined, and methodical. I had to exhibit the same qualities or die trying.

Deming was on his way out when I returned. He neatly evaded Cato and planted a kiss on my forehead.

“What`s on for today, Sherlock? I`m tied up until three, but after that I`m all yours.”

Our eyes met for just a moment as we revisited our time with Pavarotti.

“I`ve given this some thought,” I said. “Divide and conquer. I`ll work on the Bella Brigade, Anika will tackle Sorrel, and you, my darling, will smooze with Fess Paskert.”

Deming curled his lip. “Why that guy? Seems more like a ladies` man to me, at least in his mind.”

“Nonsense. Two men of the world, used to high finance, debits, and debentures. A perfect fit. He`s fairly transparent anyway. I bet you`ll peel him like a grape.”

“Okay. I guess so,” Deming said. “Funny thing though. Reputation is the key in financing debentures. Maybe I can parlay that into something interesting. Focus on the endowment grant and discuss obstacles.”

“Perfect! I knew you`d find a way. When my best seller climbs the charts, you`ll get all the credit.”

He rolled his eyes and marched out the door. “Don`t act surprised when you see me at Concord. I`ll bet Paskert finds time for me even with the cops crawling all over the place.” Before he entered the elevator, Deming paused. “Be careful, Eja. I worry about you.”

MY ONLY CONTACT at the Bella Brigade was Nadia, the willowy young woman with the big soft eyes. She was one of Paskert’s office slaves, so I gambled on enticing her with a nice lunch and the chance to dish a little dirt. I had no problem prying her away from her duties. In fact, she sounded surprisingly carefree. Dr. Paskert had left to spend the afternoon with an important donor and while the cat was away. . . . Score one for Deming and that big Swann checkbook. I suggested the Grafton Street Pub since it was a spot that Deming always avoided. To my surprise, Nadia opted in favor of spiritual refreshment. I had no problem nourishing the soul as long as it helped me reach my goal. We agreed to meet after the noon prayer service at Trinity Church in Copley Square.

I don`t subscribe to any particular religion and neither does Deming. His childhood teetered between Anika’s Lutheran tradition and the Buddhism of Bolin’s ancestors. My parents were lapsed Marxists who hoped for an Almighty but hedged their bets. Personally I am a person of faith who is ambivalent about religion.

I waited outside until the service concluded. After the crowd disbursed, Nadia straggled out in the company of an earnest young cleric who patted her shoulder and nodded vigorously. I stayed in the shadow of the heavy arches, marveling at the Romanesque structure before me. Trinity Church was an architectural miracle, an anachronism in the increasingly modernist skyline of Boston. I loved everything about it.

“Ms. Kane,” Nadia said. “Thanks for meeting me here.” Her voice was girlish, almost gushing. I instinctively distrust gushers. They reek of insincerity and faux charm.

“Maybe we could sit on the benches and talk,” Nadia said.

Fine in theory, but a gusty ocean wind had chilled me to the bone. I suggested that we find an interior pew for our discussion.

“I`m being selfish,” Nadia said. “You were kind to indulge me.” She drew something from her purse and handed it to me. It was my lace handkerchief, starched, laundered, and beautifully pressed. “Two deaths—two murders—have overwhelmed me. That`s why I`m here. I always leave feeling at peace, no matter what the problem is.”

“Are you a congregant?” I asked.

Nadia shrugged. “Sometimes. I really come here for the music. Duff got me started. She was really into singing. Even did solos here.”

Yet another insight into Duff Ryder, woman of mystery.

“That`s a pretty big deal at a place like this, isn`t it?”

There was pathos in Nadia’s smile. I wondered if sorrow or guilt had caused it.

“Duff had a beautiful voice,” she said. “Clear as a bell. She started here as a chorister, you know.”

“I`ve never heard that term before. Fill me in.”

That seemed to please her, being the one with answers for once. “Choristers are kind of a youth choir group. You know, kids eight through eighteen. Duff was one of their stars. Then she was promoted to the big choir. Kind of teacher’s pet to hear Duff tell it.”

“Wow!” I said. “She had a lot of things going on. Singing, protesting, teaching.”

Once again Nadia donned that insipid grin. “Oh, Duff stopped the singing. Sonia felt she had too many commitments.” She lowered her voice. “Naturally, that book would have made things awkward too. I can`t see the rector quoting
Worm
from the pulpit, can you? The principal soloist is supposed to be a model of rectitude, not a purveyor of smut.”

My worldview had turned several revolutions since these murders started. Duff Ryder was no longer the clueless naif. She didn`t fit the role that I had assigned to her and probably never had. And Nadia was far from the cheery wood sprite of my imagination. It was a matter of perceptions gone awry.

After we settled in an obscure pew, I took Nadia’s hand. It felt cold and bloodless, more serpentine than sprite.

“I`m still pursuing the book that Sonia told you about. True crime. Are you up to answering some questions?”

Nadia reared back, raked a comb through her hair, and nodded.

“I didn`t really know Sonia,” I said. “Tell me about her. Why would someone hate her that much?”

The girl heaved a big sigh. “Let me count the ways, as the poet said. Sonia was all things to all men. We used to joke about it, Duff and I. Sonia the empathic metamorph. You know, like in
Star Trek
. Sugar-sweet around Paskert but tough as an old boot if needed. I learned that for a fact.”

The conversation was tricky. I had to encourage Nadia without appearing to take sides. One false step, and the conversational spigot might run dry.

“Dr. Paskert liked her then?”

“Are you kidding?” Nadia asked. “
All
men liked Sonia, and Paskert was no exception. Dr. Mann was all over her.” She glanced at the incomparable stained glass window of the Virgin Mary. “I should clarify that. Gabriel—Dr. Mann—has a reputation, if you know what I mean.”

She was talking to one woman who knew exactly what she meant. Preaching to the choir, to use a churchy cliché. During our brief marriage I was the only one in Boston who believed in Gabriel’s fidelity. Everyone else kept a scorecard.

“Did Sonia break off their relationship, I wonder? Gabriel isn`t accustomed to that.”

A scowl distorted Nadia’s features. “Tough, isn`t it? He`s the love `em and leave `em type, but he met his match in Sonia.” She gave me a hard stare. “You of all people know that. Don`t you, Ms. Kane?”

In the background, I heard the mellifluous sounds of the nave organ. It was a magnificent instrument, a community treasure. Gabriel and I had been married in this very church ten years ago. The memory was so distant that I had relegated it to my subconscious.

“Sorry to stir up old memories, Ms. Kane.” Nadia’s smile put the lie to her words. She was less innocent than I`d thought, a wolf in waif’s clothing. She enjoyed my discomfort.

I focused on the beautiful carved saints that floated above the altar, timeless representations of virtue and goodness. They had nothing in common with flesh and blood humans. Nothing at all.

“That`s old news,” I said. “I promised to write an accurate account of this tragedy, and I intend to do that. Sonia and Duff deserve no less. Now, let`s start over.”

Nadia pulled her jacket tight across her breasts and flushed. “I think the feud between Sonia and Gabriel was manufactured. Good publicity, you know. Duff thought so too. She went into Sonia’s suite at the hotel and found the two of them together.”

“
In flagrante delicto
?” I gasped. “Rather audacious, wouldn`t you say?”

Nadia shrugged. “Something like that. I know Duff was horrified. She and Sonia had a big blowup afterwards.”

“But Duff worked for her,” I said. “Didn`t she need the money?”

“Apparently not. Duff said her finances had improved. That`s all I heard.”

Nadia was getting restless. She looked at her watch and uncrossed her legs. I had to strike while the proverbial iron was still hot.

“One more thing. Don`t worry about the time. I`ll take you back to the university.” I gave her my sincere look. “Were you there the day Sonia was murdered? Keegan said that Gabriel was working then.”

Nadia clenched her hands and looked away. I had obviously struck a nerve.

“I saw Dr. Mann that afternoon, but I didn`t note the times. Meetings were cancelled because of Duff.” She sounded genuinely moved by mentioning her friend. “Dr. Paskert kept me busy making copies and such.”

“What about Sonia?”

Nadia frowned. “I didn`t see her at all. Didn`t even go back into that area. Like I said, things were hectic.”

I decided to press my luck. “What`s the deal with Sorrel Yeagan? He seemed besotted by Sonia, to the point of wimpiness. I was there the night of the fundraiser, and she was actually cruel to him.”

“That`s easy,” Nadia said. “Sorrel sucks up sorrow on a straw. Duff said he had some kind of war injury that kept him from . . . performing, if you get my drift. He knew what Sonia was like.” Nadia fluttered her lashes. “A girl has needs, you know.”

“A bit inconsistent with the Bella Brigade, isn`t it? I got the idea . . .”

Nadia’s laughter disturbed my train of thought. “You`ve got us all wrong, Ms. Kane. Sex is a natural part of life. Male, female—it doesn`t matter much. The lookism crusade isn`t anti-male. Not at all. We simply insist that women be judged on their innate worth. As people, not mannequins.”

I had more questions, but Nadia suddenly shut down. During the subsequent cab ride to the university we chatted about inconsequential matters such as juggling her work assignments with MFA studies. Apparently money was tight, and she had originally planned to forego the next semester and work full-time.

“No scholarship money?” I asked, thinking of the Swann endowment.

“Just work-study programs. Of course that may all change now.”

“Oh. Did you win the lottery or something, lucky girl?” I revised my opinion about Nadia. Despite perfecting her waif persona, an inner core of solid steel occasionally peeked out. The girl was wily, not the type of person I would choose as a confidant.

She hesitated. “Well, actually, Sorrel contacted me today. Duff named me as her beneficiary. Can you believe it? I don`t know the particulars yet of course, but still. She didn`t have much, but the contract for
Worm in the
Apple
might change things
.
So incredibly generous of her.”

Two murders had purged my mind of that novel, but apparently Sorrel was still doing his job. That was either commendable or coldhearted depending on your point of view. For Nadia, ten percent represented hope for a better life—assuming that the book sold well, of course. Something told me that
Worm in the Apple
held the key to the murders. My task was to read and study it for any possible clues.

ANIKA CALLED ME later that day. The lilt in her voice said that she`d been successful and couldn`t wait to share.

“How about tonight?” she asked. “Dem may have something too.”

Unfortunately, I was scheduled to read at the Boston Public Library, an event that I couldn`t miss. Anika was undeterred.

“No problem,” she said. “I`ll join the audience. That way you`ll have your own cheering section. Bolin has a late meeting anyway. Some political thing. Then we can catch a bite afterwards and compare notes. Okay?”

“Absolutely! I always feel weird at such an imposing place. As if I`m an imposter who doesn`t belong there.”

We agreed to meet at the library’s Commonwealth Salon sometime before 6 p.m. That gave me only two hours to calm my nerves, dress, and walk to the site. In times like these, Cato was a great help. He demanded his afternoon walk and wouldn`t take no for an answer. I found myself decompressing as we trotted past the swan boats, around the pond, and parallel to the Four Seasons Hotel. Why exercise the nuclear option? After all, it was Keegan’s job to find the killer. I only had to write about it.

After placating Cato with his favorite food and toys, I dashed in to freshen up and dress. The library crowd was very low key. No fear of a fashion faux pas around them. When it came to speakers, they were more interested in content than packaging. Come to think of it, that was the message of the Bella Brigade and COWE. Words to live by.